


In The Teardrop Of A Giant

by Sashataakheru



Series: The Ballad of Prince Alex and King Greg: A Royal AU [4]
Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF, Welsh Mythology
Genre: Anxiety Dreams, Cuddles, Dreams, Giants, Hurt/Comfort, Lucid dreams, M/M, Nightmares, Possession, Sleep Deprivation, Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon, Weird Shit, mythfic, resisting the call, royal au, turning Greg into a giant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 18:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21184259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: Greg's tall enough already without some mythical giant turning up in his dreams to awaken the real giant bloodlines within him and transform him into a giant.This summary has the word 'giant' in it too many times. But that's the best you're getting right now. I can't think of anything better.





	In The Teardrop Of A Giant

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Spook Me Hallowe'en Ficathon 2019. Image prompt used: giant - https://images51.fotki.com/v731/photos/6/3814576/16026379/theartofjosedanielcabrerapena9-vi.jpg
> 
> This pretty much exists bc I was reading back through the fics in this royal AU series and realised one of the poems I'd put in has turned Greg into a giant, so I had to figure out how tf that happened, so. Here we are. :D?

Every night for the past week, Greg had dreamed the same dream. He was some kind of mythical giant, doing battle against an army of men, slaying and trampling as many as he could before he picked them up in his hands and devoured them. This in and of itself didn't seem unusual (but that was another story altogether), but his penchant for collecting beards from his vanquished foes to turn into a cloak definitely was. He felt that meant something, but couldn't figure out what.  
  
They were also speaking a language he couldn't understand. It wasn't English. Might have been Welsh or Irish, perhaps, but he knew neither well enough to know for sure. If he'd been able to understand it, that might have helped him figure out what was going on. He'd tried to write down anything he understood, but he couldn't parse out the sounds into words that he could spell with any degree of accuracy, so that was a dead end.  
  
The dream started the same way every night, with him as a giant rising from his mountain kingdom and going after an army of soldiers, and each night, the army seemed to be from a different time period. Greg couldn't identify anything past possibly Roman and mediaeval. The rest was just a whole army of men in tunics with swords, which he felt was unhelpfully vague. History was not his speciality.  
  
The battles all took place in different places too. Sometimes on the mountain, sometimes he was throwning rocks at little wooden boats coming at him up a river as they threw spears or shot arrows at him, sometimes it was in the snow in the depths of winter. Every time, he triumphed. Whoever came up against him was utterly defeated.  
  
In the dream, he went through several battles like this until he was fighting against just one man, some kind of mediaeval king, who, in the end, hit him over the head so hard his body split in two. This was the point where he woke up screaming, and the pain felt so incredibly real, which was the most terrifying thing he'd ever experienced, tearing right through him where the sword had struck him.  
  
Alex happened to be there the first time he had the dream, and ran to him to comfort him, having been woken up by his screams. Greg didn't really know how to tell him about it, so he simply cuddled him until the pain and the fear went away. Alex was still sleeping by his side when the sun came up, but Greg had not slept at all. He spent the night lying there, wondering what he'd done to be given such an awful nightmare, hoping it wouldn't become a recurring one like all the ones with the dragons had become.  
  


* * *

  
Greg was out of luck. The dream kept coming back. The pain never really lessened, either, though he did get used to it. He would just lie in bed afterwards, staring up at the ceiling, clutching a pillow to his chest, convincing himself he was still alive and not cut in two, with stones being thrown at him and making his world go dark, as if he was being buried. That left him feeling suffocated and breathless.  
  
After the third night, he realised how badly he needed Alex with him. He didn't know why. Something about Alex's presence calmed him down and made the pain go away faster. But Alex wasn't there. Alex couldn't be there, because he had a family of his own to take care of. Greg simply had to cope on his own, which he did badly. He'd at least written the dream down in excruciating detail now, just so he didn't forget it. He'd almost considered sending it to Alex, but he'd see him in a couple of weeks, it could wait, right? It would have to wait. He didn't want to bother Alex with this if it meant nothing. And he really wanted this one to mean nothing. It was just an anxiety dream about being too big to fit anywhere, right? There he was, taking his revenge on anyone who'd ever given him shit for it, as if his height was something he had any control over. That's definitely what it was.  
  
So he resigned himself to the dream and the pain, wondering why he was being cursed this way, as it kept coming back, night after night, leaving him drained and tired from not sleeping well. Sleeping pills did nothing; if anything, they made the dreams far more vivid and the pain far more excruciating. It didn't even matter where he slept, because he'd tried that too. It didn't matter. The dream returned every single night, and now he was sure he was so tired he was bordering on delirium, and it had only been a week. He just wanted to sleep without being tormented, but the dream was so persistent, he was now afraid to sleep.  
  
The strangest and definitely the most disturbing thing about the whole experience, which he'd noticed after the third dream, was just how embodied in the giant he was. He wasn't just seeing through his eyes, he was the giant. If he thought about moving his limbs, they moved. If he looked one way or that, that's where he looked. Even speaking was under his control, even if he didn't understand anything else. He had far more control over the dreams than he was willing to admit, even if the content varied each time time. They were beginning to feel like memories. He was beginning to suspect that he really _was_ the giant.  
  
You see, he'd started ... craving things. Weird things. Like salt and, one day, the overwhelming urge to see what lichen tasted like. He wanted to hold rocks, to touch them, to feel the earth so deeply within and around him in a way that he didn't really understand. He didn't know why these things suddenly appealed to him. The giant in his dreams wasn't made of rock. He was flesh and blood, and bled like a human being. But perhaps being buried underground had turned the giant into rock. Maybe that's why he was craving those things. He'd certainly started eating more salt and he was sure that couldn't be good for him. But it just tasted so good now, as if it was sparkling with an intensity that it had never had before.  
  
And he could've sworn he'd somehow grown taller, even though that seemed impossible. Ducking through doorways wasn't unusual, he was used to that, but he'd had to bend his neck further than he was used to, and it was giving him neck strain. Indeed, he was standing in his flat right now and his head almost touched the ceiling. That definitely wasn't right. He wasn't that tall. He wasn't actually turning into a giant, was he? That sort of thing was impossible.  
  
But then he felt his body seem to fill with some kind of strange energy and it didn't take long for his head to hit the ceiling at last. That's when he began to panic, because suddenly, he was _growing_.  
  


* * *

  
He'd managed to get outside. He stood up against a wall, feeling himself continuing to grow, being unable to believe this was actually happening. What was he now, eight feet tall? That seemed ridiculous. But he'd somehow grown a foot or so in the space of a few hours. The strangest thing was that his clothes didn't tear. They grew with him. It was like he'd been hit with some kind of beam that was making him grow.  
  
There were very few places he could go now. He couldn't get back inside, he was too tall now. At least, he'd have to crawl, and there was no way he was doing that. Besides, he might just keep on growing, and who knew how tall he'd really end up being?  
  
He fled for open space, trying to think, ignoring how much smaller everyone else was around him as he barged his way through in a blind panic, knowing he was continuing to grow taller, praying that he wasn't actually hurting anyone as he went, and trying so very hard not to get caught up in power lines and electrocute himself.  
  
He had no destination in mind, just somewhere open where he could sit and think about what was happening to him and pray that the rest of the world wouldn't decide to freak out and try to kill him because he was a giant and they didn't want him to cause any more damage. That's what happened to fairytale giants. They all ended up dead, one way or another. Always the villains, never the heroes. It was a sentiment that hit home in a bad way for him, and he had come to resent anyone who tried to give him shit about it. About not fitting in, or even just fitting at all. Too big for everything. Well, he certainly was now.  
  
_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._ This was the worst anxiety dream he'd ever had, and he was done with it. He just wanted it to be over but he couldn't seem to wake. He was stuck as a giant, trying to ignore the people yelling at him as he pushed his way through, and trying not to think about whether he'd hurt anyone along the way.  
  
At some point, he found a motorway and by then, he was almost taller than the street lights, which made all the cars seem like toys, as he bumbled along, trying to find somewhere to hide and try not to hurt anyone in the process.  
  
This was not going to end well, he could just tell. He knew, because the wound in his head where the sword always hit him was pulsating badly and the pain was searing through him. Yeah, this was definitely not going to end well at all.  
  


* * *

  
He'd made it to a field in the countryside where at least he didn't feel like he was hemmed in. On the other hand, he really did feel like a proper giant now. He had no idea how tall he was, but he felt like he was sitting in a miniature village. Everything seemed impossibly tiny. But at least he thought he'd finally stopped growing.  
  
He sat down in the grass and wondered what on earth he was going to do now. Was he stuck like this? Would he just have to sleep in a field now? What would he eat? Surely he'd need so much more food now that he was so much taller? Wasn't that how it worked? Was he now stuck in these clothes for the rest of his life? Wouldn't he freeze when it got cold?  
  
He didn't like the answers to any of those questions, and that's when the panic really began to sink in. He hated his body at the best of times, and now he'd become this grotesque giant who could probably squash anyone if they got under his feet. What the fuck was going on? Was this even real, or was he still dreaming? Or had he just gone mad from a severe lack of sleep? The wound in his head began to ache again, and he didn't want to know what that meant.  
  
He closed his eyes, and tried not to cry as the pain increased, almost blinding him with its intensity. He pressed his hands into the wounded area, wishing it would help, but it didn't. He cried out in pain, curling up into a ball as he pressed his head into the ground, wondering if perhaps he'd caught some awful brain tumour and he was about to die. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about death, but he never imagined this was how he would go out.  
  
It was then that he heard the galloping of a horse, and the closer it got, the worse the pain was. A man was calling to him angrily, but Greg didn't care, was in too much pain to care much for anything other than whether or not he was about to die. He'd convinced himself this was a fever dream, a hallucination, and when he felt a cut into his leg, he ignored it and swatted the man away like a fly, not wanting to deal with him. He was just too small.  
  
"Try that again, you vile brute! I will have your head!" the man yelled.  
  
Greg simply cried out and swatted at him again, only this time, he managed to send him flying. Greg was delusional with pain now, tears streaming down his face, and struggled to his hands and knees to see if he could find his attacker. He spotted him scrambling up some distance away, before he lowered his sword and made ready to charge at him. Greg groped blindly towards him, unable to focus well enough to see, copping a cut to his hand, before he managed to pick him up through sheer chance and throw him down, stamping on him as he crushed his body under his palm. He'd done it without even thinking, because the only thing he was feeling was pain, and then something hit him between the eyes and his world went black.  
  


* * *

  
A voice spoke somewhere to Greg's left. He wasn't really aware of anything apart from someone stroking his head. He appeared to be lying on his stomach, and everything ached. The stabbing pain was gone, to be fair, but it wasn't much of a consolation prize, because it had turned into a dull ache instead.  
  
The voice spoke again, but Greg was conscious enough to tell that it wasn't English, and Greg tuned out, unable to understand what was going on. The voice was male though, deep and with a small hint of malice. The ground seemed to shake when he spoke. Something about this place seemed familiar, but he couldn't work out why.  
  
He simply breathed and half-opened his eyes, trying to take in his surroundings. He seemed to be in a cave of some sort, but not a deep one, or at least, he wasn't very far underground. He could see the outside world just beyond, the bright green grass and the blue sky tempting him with escape. But they looked very far away, and was that a mountain or a hill he could see? The last mountain he'd been to had been - _oh_. Was this Mount Snowdon? Was he in Wales?  
  
He took a deep breath, feeling his body somehow regain its strength from the earth itself. After a few more deep breaths, he propped himself up on his arms, and turned to see who was with him, and saw a man sitting there, a man who looked even bigger than he was, dressed in some kind of plate armour on his chest and with a long beard, as well as some kind of fur cloak wrapped around his shoulders. A big sword sat on one hip and he smiled as Greg sat up and looked at him.  
  
"There you are! So you're the one they chose, eh? The one who will restore the throne?" The giant laughed at this, and everything shook. Greg covered his head with his arms as the tremors washed through him. "You are a jester, a fool. No fool should ever sit on the throne of Gwynedd. If this is the best the ancestors could do, I might as well do it myself."  
  
Greg backed off a little, though at least he understood what this was about. "Hey, I never claimed any throne. I went to the mountain a few months ago and nothing happened. It's not me. I'm more than happy to pass it on to someone else. I don't want it."  
  
"Oh, something definitely happened, boy. It's definitely you. I felt it. You woke me up as you walked across my mountain. You see, you don't just have the blood of mortal kings in your veins. You also carry the blood of the giant kings. You, my little one, are descended from me. But if you don't have the courage to rule, then I will have to do it again, and make these warring kings stop before they devastate the entire kingdom and kill all their people. It's Nynio and Peibio all over again. Thousands of years pass and you humans are still the same as you ever were," the giant said.  
  
Greg was stunned into silence as the giant stood, towering over him. He was suddenly taller than he could possibly comprehend. All Greg wanted to do was flee, but there was no way out. The giant blocked the passage out to the mountain. He was half-afraid he was about to be trodden on. The giant's tone, it's fair to say, was not exactly peaceful.  
  
"Do they call King Arthur when the kingdom is in crisis? No, they call me, Rhitta Gawr! Only a giant can fix this mess. Arthur can rot under my mountain for all I care. This time, I will be victorious!" the giant said.  
  
Suddenly the earth began trembling and Greg had no idea what to hang on to because there was nothing there to grab, but he was conscious of the rocks already falling from the cave roof and hitting him. Something sharp and heavy hit his head and he was only dimly aware of the sensation of falling as someone - or something - grasped him firmly from behind and pulled him away from the falling rocks.  
  


* * *

  
Greg was never quite sure what happened between the cave, and finding himself wandering aimlessly in a forest somewhere. That's just where he'd found himself next, in the way that dreams tended to just whiplash you from one place to another. He must still be dreaming then.  
  
But if he was dreaming, then this was a dream with no end. The forest certainly didn't seem to have an end. It was a dark forest, or possibly it was just eternally nighttime, and he never found his way out. The trees all seemed so impossibly tall he couldn't see the sky at all, except through little patches in the canopy. There was no sound to be heard. No insects, no birds, no wind, nothing. He was only aware of the ground trembling as what felt like giant footsteps pounded closer towards him. Footsteps that never caught him, mind, but the threat was enough. He ran. The forest just kept on going.  
  


* * *

  
He made the mistake of looking up at the giant who was chasing him as he was cornered by a bridge over a stream and saw Alex towering over him, gazing down at him with black eyes and absolutely no emotion as he lifted a foot and attempted to squash him. Greg only survived because he scampered out of the way before the bridge came crashing down.  
  


* * *

  
He didn't escape for long. Before he could get away, a giant hand was picking him up and he was being held against Alex's chest, unable to get away no matter how hard he tried. He was also a very long way up, and falling would almost definitely kill him. Alex closed his hands around him, as if he were trapping a bug, and Greg found he couldn't escape. The sensation of lying against human flesh freaked him out so much at first until it became apparent he wasn't going to get free and he gave up and lay still, unable to stop what was happening to him. Eventually, the rocking motion of Alex's walk sent him to sleep.  
  


* * *

  
"Greg, Greg, wake up. Are you alright? Greg?"  
  
Alex's voice seemed very far away. Greg had no strength to open his eyes. The only thing he was really aware of was how much pain he was in. It was very familiar pain, a searing slice of agony right through his body, culminating in a pulsing jagger in his head that was so bad he wanted to throw up. Instead, he drifted off unto unconsciousness again.  
  


* * *

  
He felt numb when he finally woke. His body was still aching but it was bearable. He didn't quite know where he was. It was too dark to see. All he knew was that Alex was lying beside him. He knew it was Alex because he could feel him. Also it was unlikely to be anyone else who'd run to his side at whatever o'clock this was. Alex was a stupid boy in many ways, and he had never quite understood his unending devotion to him like this, but he was grateful for it tonight. Alex was, perhaps, the only one who would leave their bed at midnight to make sure he was alright. He held him tight, and as he did so, Alex seemed to wake and looked up at him, sleepily.  
  
"Oh, hey, there you are. You alright? Only you called me sixteen times in ten minutes so I figured I'd come and make sure you were okay. You were crying in pain when I got here though. It took me a long time to calm you down. Are you having nightmares again?" Alex said.  
  
Greg needed a moment to process his words before he nodded slowly. "I can't-" He paused, trying to find the words he needed, before he gave up. "I don't even know anymore. Did I really call you that many times? I don't remember doing that."  
  
"Yes, you did, sir. I was half-awake when you rang, otherwise I'd have missed them. You sounded so distressed, sir, so I came as soon as I could," Alex said.  
  
"Jesus. I'm sorry, it must be really late. I didn't mean to drag you all the way here like that. You can go, I'll be fine. They were just bad dreams. Thanks for caring though," Greg said, amazed that Alex had come to check on him at all.  
  
"Oh, it's not-" Alex checked his watch, and Greg noticed that it seemed to be after 3am, "alright, it _is_ late, but it's alright. I'll be fine. Do you need me to get you anything? Make you a tea? Anything at all? I just want to make sure you're alright, then I'll head home."  
  
Greg sat up and switched the bedside lamp on, blinking as he saw his own room around him. He was at home, somehow. Had he been dreaming all along? When had he fallen asleep? He didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't even remember how he'd got into bed.  
  
"I'm definitely home, aren't I? I'm in my flat? I'm not ten feet tall, am I?" Greg said.  
  
"You don't look ten feet tall to me, sir. And yes, you're in your flat. Where did you think you were?" Alex said.  
  
"Not here, that's for sure. I don't - I honestly don't remember much. Something - I don't even know right now, Alex," Greg said.  
  
"Was it something to do with giants? That was the only word you kept saying in your calls. You sounded so frightened, sir," Alex said.  
  
Greg had to stand up, just to make sure he hadn't grown. He slipped out of bed, and Alex sat on the bed, watching him. Greg definitely was the same height he always was. Standing up made the pain flare a little, and he closed his eyes, feeling a little dizzy. Alex was by his side immediately, holding his arm.  
  
"Are you alright, sir? Are you injured? Do I need to take you to hospital?" Alex said, and Greg could hear the clear panic in his voice.  
  
Greg wasn't sure what had happened, but he was pretty sure he was fine. Just - confused. "No, no, I'm fine, I think. Just - can dreams cause you physical pain? Because I think this one did."  
  
"Oh, no, sir, it's not like the one you had last week, was it? Has it been coming back?" Alex said.  
  
Greg tried not to cringe at the way Alex remembered these things. He didn't want Alex to remember that. He didn't want to answer him, but there wasn't much point in denying it. "Yeah, every night since then. This one was the worst though. The pain was awful. But I feel fine now, I think?"  
  
Alex stood in front of him and searched his eyes, clearly trying to reassure himself he was fine, even if Greg had no idea what he might even find. It's not like either of them were doctors. Mostly, he was just grateful that the pain was mostly gone now. He'd have a cup of tea, and go back to bed. This one was so different from the others that this had to have been the last one. It wouldn't come back. He'd be fine now.  
  
"Are you sure you're alright?" Alex said.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. I feel fine? I'm not going to get better with you constantly asking if I'm alright though," Greg said, trying not to sound too annoyed or ungrateful.  
  
Alex blushed and looked at his feet. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" He paused. "Do you want me to stay? I can go if you're fine, sir."  
  
"No, no, you don't need to stay. I think I'll be fine. I think I'm just tired. I've barely slept all week. But I should be alright now. Call me tomorrow if you're still worried, but I think it's over. I'll be alright now. But thanks for coming over. You were the one person I needed tonight, Alex," Greg said.  
  
"Yes, I guessed from all the calls, sir. I'm glad I came. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I'd never heard you sound like that before. It scared me. But I'm glad it was just - dreams," Alex said.  
  
"Yeah, it was just dreams. I'll be alright. You head on home. You've been here long enough, haven't you? When did you get here? Midnight?" Greg said.  
  
"Oh, well, no, I mean-" Alex couldn't hide the guilt on his face. "Not quite- maybe one, I think? I came as soon as I got your calls. You needed me, and I must always come when you need me, sir."  
  
Greg honestly couldn't be mad at him. He'd come all the way here just to make sure he was alright, because Greg had called him, called _for_ him, and something about that made his heart warm a little. "You don't need to do this for me. Does your wife know you're here?"  
  
"I, uh, I did - whisper something - she woke - I don't really know, just said you needed me and left, so I just - I was afraid you were dying, sir! I didn't want to leave you if I was the only one you were reaching out to!" Alex said.  
  
Greg pulled him into a hug, because he just wasn't sick of hugging him yet. "Do you need to be at home, Alex? Because if so, then you should go. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. You, on the other hand, have a family to take care of, yes?"  
  
"Oh, but I-er, well, yes, I do - because she - yes, I mean - if you're alright, I'll just - go now, sir?" Alex stammered, as if he couldn't decide who was his current priority but couldn't pick one over the other.  
  
Greg gently kissed the top of his head. "It's alright, Alex, you go. I'll be fine. Drive safe, yeah? I can imagine you haven't had enough sleep tonight. I don't want you crashing, you hear?"  
  
"Oh, it's okay, I'm used to it. I'll be fine. It's not far. Thank you, though. You sure you don't need me to make you a tea? Take you anywhere? You're definitely fine, right?" Alex said.  
  
"I'm definitely fine, now that I've got you in my arms. Don't worry about the tea. I'll go make that. You head home. I wouldn't want you getting in trouble with your wife," Greg said.  
  
Greg let him go if only so he could kiss him, and you'd better believe he let that kiss linger until Alex was sighing wistfully, desperate for it not to end, then ushered him out of his room. "Go on, you scamp, get out of here. You've got three kids you'll need to take care of in a few hours, right?"  
  
"Yes, yes, I do, sorry. Thank you, sir. I'll call tomorrow. I'm glad you're alright, though. Goodnight, sir, I hope you get some good sleep now. You look like you need it," Alex said.  
  
"I do, I really do. Goodnight, Alex. I'll talk to you later," Greg said, making a point of ushering him to his door to let him out.  
  
"Yes, of course, I'll talk to you later. Goodnight, sir," Alex said.  
  


* * *

  
The relative silence of the early morning felt strange as he stood there, making a cup of tea, thinking back over what happened and whether it had even been real. He didn't know why, but his body was feeling ... rejuvenated. That was the only word he could find for how he felt. He felt stronger somehow, fitter, but that might just be the weird energy of being awake at 4am. You couldn't just turn into a giant. That didn't happen. None of this was real. It was just ... weird dreams. That's all it was. He was just ... over-stressed, perhaps. Had travelled too much lately. Something like that. He didn't know what, but that had to be the explanation.  
  
And yet, as he stood there, staring aimlessly at the wall in front of him, he couldn't help becoming aware of the deep feeling of inevitability in his bones that suggested that one day, he'd end up back on that mountain with a crown on his head, and the weight of the world bearing down upon him. It felt as inevitable as the sunrise and it scared him. He didn't want that kind of power. He didn't trust himself with it.  
  
No. Absolutely not. He wasn't going to be king. These dreams of giants had just been nightmares. That's all it was. Nightmares. Nothing more than that. He'd go back to sleep and get on with his life and everything would be fine. He wasn't going to be king. Fools don't become kings. Comedians don't become kings. That's how you destroy a kingdom, not bring one together.  
  
He sighed, and took his tea back to bed, resenting the spirits that had decided to get him caught up in all this bullshit. They were clearly trying to send him messages, but not in a way that he understood, and sleep-depriving him for a week was not the kind of way to bring him round, either. If anything, it made him hate them more and curse the crown on some other relative who was stupid enough to accept it.  
  
In the shadows, the red dragon watching him had other ideas.


End file.
